


yesterday

by Emlee_J



Series: One Hundred and Seventy-Two Centimetres [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emlee_J/pseuds/Emlee_J
Summary: Because to Hinata, he is a rival, a goal and an occasional partner when he wanted a toss. A friend.So Tobio says nothing. Does nothing. Never lets himself think on it if he can help it, lest the thoughts and the feelings and the way Hinata smiles at him makes his heart shred itself into neat little pieces distract him.He’s played volleyball for years with confetti for a heart in his ribcage, what’s a few years more?-In which Kageyama knows exactly what to do when you were in love yesterday, are still in love today and will be for every day after: you ignore it.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: One Hundred and Seventy-Two Centimetres [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931680
Comments: 55
Kudos: 263





	yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> this is a (quite late) companion piece to [tomorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616962) \- where hinata is also pining away in brazil.
> 
> i am, quite frankly, never getting over this arc

Kageyama Tobio is fifteen when he realises he’s in love.

Yesterday he’d only been in love with volleyball. And then somehow, quite entirely against his will, the universe saw fit to give him volleyball again in a person, and make him fall in love with that as well.

Hinata Shouyou is aggravating and talented and annoying and every single thing Tobio has been looking for since he was old enough to want it.

But Tobio is not stupid. And he knows from history that he has a habit of breaking things, and losing them. And out of all things, he does not want to lose Hinata.

So for every day that passes where Hinata’s smile is just the right shade of sunny, where his closeness is exhilarating rather than irritating, where Tobio’s heart warms just with his presence, he simply ignores the clamour in his chest.

Perhaps it should build, but somehow it doesn’t: the collection of yesterdays where Tobio simply says and does nothing about the emotion he keeps secret.

He keeps it locked away, hidden, until it almost becomes as much of a constant companion as Hinata himself.

Until they inevitably grow up, and independence comes along with a carving knife.

Until yesterday, when Japan lost their last game of the 2016 Rio Olympics.

They didn’t even make it to the quarter finals.

Yesterday, Kageyama Tobio was a star server, one of the first of the whispered monster generation to step onto the world stage.

Yesterday, Tobio stood on the biggest stage there is and underneath all the joy, the childlike glee of a dream come true, he felt almost hollow, like he had forgotten something.

Yesterday, Tobio had been forced to watch most of the game from the side lines, hands curled into fists as he spotted gaps in the wall he could’ve made use of if _he_ was setting. Not because their regular setter could not see them, but because the other half of the equation simply wasn’t there.

Tobio wakes the next morning, the memory of yesterday burning in his mind like a muscle that’s been stretched just a bit too far.

The final whistle blow is always the hardest to hear when victory is not on your side.

“Well,” the captain sighs, with tears on his cheeks and a smile that’s more relieved than resigned. “It was Argentina. We just got a little unlucky with the match-ups.”

There’s murmurs of agreement as Team Japan shuffle off the court.

Kageyama Tobio does not join in.

The team pat his back and ruffle his hair and shout encouragements at him as they leave. He’s the youngest on the roster and it’s clear they all think he’s taking their loss the hardest.

In Tobio’s opinion, he’s the only one – aside from Ushijima perhaps, who is similarly stoic – who’s taking it hard _enough_.

Disappointment is sprinkled in the faces of his teammates, but to most of them, it seems like losing had been almost an inevitability. Like it was enough they were even _here_ , on the Olympic stage itself, and the thought of a medal was simply asking for something more - something they didn’t deserve. He thinks back to when Karasuno lost at Nationals, all three years, how the team had left not crying but not happy either. Satisfied, maybe. That they had worked their hardest and didn’t win, but the loss was just something more to grow from.

This feels different. Like the tournament itself was the prize. Like they could have crashed out in the first round and they would all be leaving resigned just the same.

Hunger roils in Tobio’s gut. He wants to throw his towel down the ground and go for a run. Do some serving practice. Do _something_. He doesn’t, of course. He has spent too many years training himself _not_ to do these things. He stretches and showers and eats. He listens to the coach’s speech, shuffles after his teammates as they head back to the Olympic Village. Says nothing at all during all of it.

They’re banned from training the next day.

Tobio is appalled.

They have to stay until the end of the Games – something about closing ceremonies and Tokyo hosting the next Olympics and being Japan representatives. But instead of doing something, _anything_ , productive, they’re all given leave. _Relax_ , they’re told. _Take some time._

But Tobio doesn’t need time to wallow or feel sad or collect himself. He wants to do something to ensure they do _better_ next time.

He whittles away the hours as best he can. Goes for a run, writes in his journal. Eats some more. Ignores the flurry of messages on his phone from people at home.

For a little while anyway.

He lets his eyes drift over the notifications list now and then. Sees the names scroll past and makes note of who they are. Who they aren’t. It takes until the sun has completely left the sky and the thunder of athletes returning from their competitions sounds outside his lodgings before he’s driven outside. He gets a few startled looks from his teammates, but he ignores them. He heads outside and marches until he finds a quiet patch in amongst all the pop-up buildings. He’ll probably get lost on the way back.

He doesn’t really care.

Tobio fishes his phone from his pocket and stabs a number in with his thumb. A bright ring in his ear, once, twice, three times, before-

“Kageyama?”

Hinata’s voice is sudden and surprised and Tobio feels like his ribs might crack his chest is suddenly _so full._

There’s only been one occasion in the past year where Tobio had been free to be present for a group video chat with his graduating class. Hinata’s voice then had been tinny, muffled by hundreds of miles of distance and a bad internet connection. For the first time in months, it rings clear and sharp in Tobio’s ear. Like he’s standing right beside him again, calling his name before whining for a toss.

Most days, Tobio doesn’t think on it. Hinata’s out there working, and that’s all that matters. But today is not most days, and today, it _aches._

“Did you watch?” Tobio demands, in lieu of a greeting. It’s not like Hinata ever needed one anyway.

There’s silence over the line, where all Tobio can hear is soft breathing and the whisper of the wind. Sounds like Hinata is outside as well. He wonders if he’s on the beach right now.

“Yeah, you sucked,” Hinata says, eventually. His tone is off though, lacking any mischief or spark. He sounds too soft. Tobio hates it.

The wind whistles through the phone speaker. Peoples’ voices echo in the background, muffled. Hinata’s voice comes through again – further away – as he replies in clumsy sounding foreign words. The ache increases and Tobio huffs in annoyance, letting his back thud against the wall of a nearby, nameless pop-up building and squints down at the ground.

“Are you playing volleyball?” he asks, annoyed.

He has no idea why this rankles him. It could be because Hinata is playing while he’s stuck on rest, or it could be because it’s getting late and Hinata is out on a beach still exercising. But it’s probably both of these things and yet neither of them.

“Just taking a break,” Hinata says, and he still sounds too gentle around the edges.

Tobio wants to shake him. Wants to escape from this stupid pop-up village and storm to whatever beach Hinata currently sitting on and kick him in the shin until he sounds normal again. He wants to be teased, to be yelled at. He just _lost_ and he wants someone to run around a gym with while yelling at the top of his lungs.

He wants to play volleyball with the _one_ person he wants to play with and simply cannot.

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, Tobio feels the empty space by his side keenly, even though Hinata is almost in reach. He’d like to say it’s from the distance, the time spent apart, the result of two separate paths pulling them away, however temporarily. But it simply isn’t true. Because he’s always felt it whenever Hinata isn’t there, even _before._

It hadn’t taken long for Tobio, who had never missed anybody since Kazuyo-san passed, to work out why this was. It had taken only seconds after to come to the conclusion that he must never say anything.

Because to Hinata, he is a rival, a goal and an occasional partner when he wanted a toss. A friend.

So Tobio says nothing. Does nothing. Never lets himself think on it if he can help it, lest the thoughts and the feelings and the way Hinata smiles at him makes his heart shred itself into neat little pieces distract him.

He’s played volleyball for years with confetti for a heart in his ribcage, what’s a few years more?

“Kageyama?”

 _‘I’m in love with you’_ sits on Tobio’s tongue and smothers his voice. _‘I have been for years.’_

He turns until his forehead is smashed against the rough, cheap texture of the building he’s resting against, scrunches his eyes shut and drags in sharp breaths through his nose. Tries to think of anything else and everything else that isn’t related to Hinata Shouyou and the ache that’s haunted him for years.

It’s impossible.

He felt like this yesterday, and he’ll feel like this tomorrow, and every day after.

 _“Kageyama?”_ comes Hinata’s voice again, more insistent now.

Today will eventually join the many yesterdays that have been where Tobio has scrunched the emotion in his chest into a ball and shoved it into a corner.

Today, he is sure that one day he’ll stand on the world’s biggest stage again with the hollow feeling in his chest filled with the resounding _I’m here!_ once more.

And today, like every day that has come before, he'll look at the way he feels for Hinata Shouyou and ignore it, lest everything he knows come crashing down around his ears.

“Get back to training,” Tobio forces out, and shuts off the call before Hinata can reply.

**Author's Note:**

> come and yell at me on twitter! @Emlee_J


End file.
